


When Saints March (Their Shadows Follow)

by Zuza (GreenSpades)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, Drama, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I promise, Jedi family, Jedi lineage equals family, Secrets, Self-Harm, Time Travel, Trauma, but it gets better, everything sucks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 15:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13743399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenSpades/pseuds/Zuza
Summary: When an old, world-weary Jedi Master closes his eyes in death, the last thing he expects is to open them again in the unblemished Jedi Temple, surrounded by the bright Force signatures of all his friends and fellow Jedi. Realizing that he has been sent back in time by the Force itself, he is given a chance to save thousands of innocent lives and prevent the rise of the Empire. There's just one problem- the scars and traumas of the past aren't content to stay in the previous timeline.





	When Saints March (Their Shadows Follow)

It had been a very, very long time, but suddenly the old Jedi Master was being rudely reacquainted with a familiar, terrible, ( _awful, awful, awful)_ feeling. It was gut-churning, bile in his throat ( _oh Force, oh Force, he'd fucked up, he'd fucked up, **he'd fucked up**_ ). It was the icy claws of fear grabbing his heart and mercilessly squeezing, crushing, gripping, until his breath came in gasps and his chest hurt enough to make him wonder distantly if this was a heart attack ( _and he would deserve it- Force, he would deserve it_ ). It was dread, the horrible anticipation of unavoidable consequences ( _there's no going back_ ). It was his body shaking under the weight of the bitter knowledge that he had absolutely no one and nothing to blame but himself ( _him and his stupid, stupid, mind-sickness_ ).

This disaster was over something foolish and utterly needless. That just made it all the worse.

A Jedi Master who was wise (not haunted by horrible failure), respectable (not half-insane and prone to random mental lapses of judgment and attention), untraumatized (not scarred from nearly two decades of exile after the grisly destruction of everything he'd ever known and loved), and definitely not a time-traveler (not unexpectedly awoken in the past just when he thought he was finally going to rest), would not have climbed the highest spire of the Jedi Temple just to... to...

Force. Had he- had he really been about to do that?

He hadn't been thinking, that was the problem. He'd just acted on a fatalistic whim, the way he had gotten in a very bad habit of doing while living as a crazy old hermit. To be fair, he never thought he would ever again end up with a role to play other than "crazy old hermit"- maybe "mystical Jedi" to a lesser extent, but certainly not "functional member of society." He never in a thousand years would have thought to himself, "Hmm, maybe I should try to maintain some semblance of social norms, emotional health, and common sense. Could come in handy, if I ever need to impersonate the younger, less freakish version of me.”

Ah, well. Hindsight's 20/20, as they say... if only that did any damned good. His cover as his past, normal, not-crazy self hadn't lasted a full week. It was ridiculous. What happened to all his experience with missions and espionage? Was it all for nothing?

Apparently so.

A clap of thunder abruptly reminded him that he was soon going to have problems a lot more serious than a destroyed persona and reputation. Namely the fact that he was _stuck,_ gripping the sheer slippery surface of the very top of the tallest spire on the Jedi Temple, unable to get down, and utterly exposed to the elements. On top of that, night was falling, and a severe thunderstorm was rolling in.

Damn it all!  He was going to die the most undignified death to ever befall a Jedi Master, just to finalize his complete and utter failure as both a person and a Jedi.

The rain began to fall, heavy and freezing cold. He was forced to scramble to keep his grip on the wet tiles as the spire became an even more treacherous place to be. Mortal fear, another emotion he had not felt in a long time, began to take root. How was he going to get out of this one?

He risked looking down. If he fell, it would be the end of him. Maybe that _was_ the answer to solving everything. If he wasn't around anymore to keep screwing things up, then maybe everyone else would be better off. He seemed to be the one constant for everything that had gone wrong. Maybe if he was out of the picture, the others would defeat the Sith easily without his misguided meddling.

Maybe he should just let go.

He deserved it for being blinded by the Dark Side. For mistaking cruelty for wisdom. For letting everyone _die_.

He back to lean backwards, grip on the tiles loosening as he contemplated what being reunited with the Force would feel like.

A loud and sudden noise startled him, snapping him out of his trance. Jolting, he hastily readjusted himself for a better grasp of his hand and footholds. Heart pounding and head spinning, he reached for the source of the noise.

It was his old comlink- the thing was beeping like crazy, its red light indicating that someone was trying to contact him. He'd forgotten that he had it on him. Impulsively, he hit the button to take the call.

"Master Yoda?"

It was Anakin Skywalker's voice. Yoda blinked in surprise, staring dumbly down at the device in his hand. He did not remember Anakin ever contacting him directly like this. The young Knight had never had much purpose to, and (for good reason, Yoda was forced to admit) never much wanted to.

"Master Yoda? Are you there?"

Oh. He was supposed to say something back, wasn't he? In the back of his mind he could practically hear the old mantra, repeated by countless Masters down through the centuries: _"Here and now. Focus on the here and now."_

"Here, I am. In need of assistance, are you?"

There. That sounded natural, didn't it? He was perfectly calm, and everything was fine. Absolutely fine. Nothing to worry about.

"Master, why are you out in the rain? It sounds like you are."

...Oops.

"Pleasant, the rain is," Yoda said, lying through his teeth and trying not to shiver as the frigid water mercilessly pelted him.

"But it's freezing out there," Anakin protested, not having the good sense to let the matter go.

"Something that you need, is there?" Yoda asked, a little more pointedly than he'd intended.

"...Um. Yeah. Yeah, Obi-Wan wanted me to contact you."

"...Why?" Yoda was trying not to sound annoyed. He really was.

"He says that I need to meditate better. And that you're the expert on meditation."

Oh, that explained it. Yoda smirked.

"So, a lesson on mediation you desire, hmm?"

"I feel like 'desire' is a very strong word... but I am required to say yes."

"An appointment we can arrange. Meet me in my quarters at-" Yoda broke off as he suddenly remembered that he had no way of getting to an appointment. Because he was stuck. On the roof. Like an idiot.

"Master? Is something wrong?" Even over the comlink, Anakin's voice sounded suspicious.

Yoda did not respond. Words failed him. He couldn't think. He couldn't speak. Why was it so hard to breathe? The world began to spin.

"Master Yoda, are you okay?" Anakin's tone had grown more alarmed.

"...No."

Surprised by his own answer, Yoda gripped the comlink so tightly his fingers began to hurt.

"Where are you?" Anakin responded immediately, the urgency clear in his voice.

Yoda said nothing.

"Master? Where are you? I'm going to contact the Temple Guards..."

"No!" Yoda exclaimed, shaking his head vehemently even though he knew Anakin could not see it. "Please, tell them do not! Fine, I am."

"I don't even know what's going on, and I can tell that you are not remotely fine," Anakin snapped. Yoda slumped, inwardly admitting defeat.

"Knight Skywalker... Your assistance, I need. Please." Involuntarily, his voice went so soft he wondered if Anakin was even able to hear it over the rain.

"What do you need? What's wrong?"

"Something... foolish I have done. Very foolish," Yoda admitted, swallowing what little was left of his pride.

"Like what?"

"Familiar, are you, with the top spire of the Temple?"

"...Yes?"

"So... evidently... Climbable, it is. An easy feat, for a Jedi Master."

"…"

"…"

"...What."

"...But, slightly harder, is getting down."

"... _What_."

Yoda's ears fell flat in utter humiliation. Force, could he just be struck by lightning already? That honestly might be preferable.

"You're telling me," Anakin said slowly, "That you climbed the highest spire of the Jedi Temple, and now you can't get down?"

"Yes."

" _Why._ "

"...Exercise?" Yoda tried, wincing at the horrible lie. Wait, no, he could work with it! Perking up, Yoda continued with his most mischievous voice, "Spry I must remain, hmm? Good exercise, yes! But, unfortunate it is, that forgot to check the weather I did."

"Ugh, seriously?" Anakin just seemed annoyed now, rather than worried. Yoda mentally patted himself on the back for a crisis averted.

"I'll tell the Temple Guards to come get you down," Anakin went on.

Shit. Crisis back.

"Wait! No need for that, is there? Help me you could!" Yoda pleaded, hoping he didn't sound too desperate.

"What, you don't want word getting out about what a stupid thing you did?" Anakin retorted.

Yoda bristled, on the brink of snapping at the young Knight to show some respect- but, well...

He wasn't exactly in a position deserving of respect.

"Correct, you are," Yoda answered instead, keeping his tone level.

"Senile old troll," Anakin grumbled under his breath, obviously thinking his words were too quiet for his elder to hear. Yoda ignored them (although they hurt, for some reason, not that he would ever admit it).

"Please, help me, will you?" Yoda asked one last time. The wind was picking up, and he had to cling to the spire even tighter. His head was spinning again. It was so, so cold. How long had he been up here?

"Yeah, yeah whatever," Anakin agreed with resignation. "But you will _definitely_ owe me one."

"Thank you," Yoda murmured gratefully.

"Just give me a minute to get to a speeder," Anakin told him, and the connection between their comlinks went dead.

Time passed in a blur of freezing rain, rumbling thunder, and howling winds- it felt like hours, but Yoda knew it couldn't have been that long. The darkness was abruptly pierced by the beam of headlights, and a bright red, open speeder pulled up alongside the spire. In the pilot's seat sat a highly exasperated Anakin Skywalker.

"Get in," Anakin shouted over the storm, and Yoda wasted no time in obeying. Springing into the cockpit, Yoda settled down in the passenger's seat and heaved an exhausted sigh of relief. Anakin whipped the speeder around and headed back down, clearly in a hurry to get out of the rain.

"You better not make a habit of this," Anakin warned as they pulled into the hanger. "Now we're _both_ completely soaked."

"Repeat this mistake, I will not," Yoda promised honestly.

"Well, I hope so, because-" Anakin turned to look at him and broke off abruptly.

"What?" Yoda inquired, glancing up at the other in confusion.

Anakin’s face had turned ashen, his stunned gaze fixed on Yoda’s small frame. The wind from the storm had rolled up the old Jedi Master’s sleeves, exposing his short arms almost completely. All along Yoda’s arms, in the places normally hidden by the heavy Jedi robes, could clearly be seen rows of neat, deliberate scars. Some of them were still fresh.

Yoda realized what Anakin was looking at. Absolute terror struck him, and he hastily yanked his sleeves down to cover the gruesome sight. His hands were trembling.

“For the ride, I thank you,” Yoda forced himself to say, as if nothing was wrong, but he was unable to stop the waver in his voice.

Anakin looked like he was going to be sick.

“What,” the Jedi Knight began softly, a strangely distressed note to his voice that Yoda had never heard before, “…were you really doing on that spire?”

“Told you, I have,” Yoda insisted, and then leapt out of the speeder before Anakin had a chance to respond. Anakin immediately followed, but when he landed on the hanger floor and searched around for the other Jedi, it was too late.

Master Yoda had already bolted, vanishing into the further reaches of the Temple with stunning speed.

Standing there, heart in his throat, Anakin Skywalker was left to face a dilemma he’d never expected. What in the galaxy was he supposed to do? He couldn’t do _nothing_ \- he’d seen too much, it wouldn’t be right. He had a responsibility now… if only he knew where to begin.

Force, he felt like the floor had been pulled out from underneath him. From Anakin’s perspective, Master Yoda had always stood like a proud mountain on the distant horizon: unbreakable, untouchable, and there for as long as anyone could remember. The old Jedi Master had honestly seemed more like a figurehead puppet than an actual person, being a living symbol for the authority of the Jedi Council, and representing all their collective wisdom- and folly.

Until now, that is.

The horrible images played again in his head, over and over. Master Yoda, more tiny and frail than he had ever looked before, soaked to the bone and shaking from the cold. Ugly red lines marring green skin. Wide, terrified eyes, looking up at Anakin with utter vulnerability.

How could this happen, without anyone noticing? Why? What could possibly be so wrong, to drive an ancient and wise Jedi Master to… to _that_?

With all of his preconceptions absolutely shattered, Anakin was bitterly reminded of an old Tatooine expression.

“Every saint has a shadow,” he echoed it to himself, gazing numbly in the direction where the Grandmaster had fled.

Was he supposed to contact the mind healers for this sort of thing? If it were any other Jedi, in any other situation, he would have already reported it, but… something was making him hesitate. The Force was warning him urgently, loudly tugging at his senses. Something else was at play here, something unusual enough to mean that the normal protocol should not be followed.

Anakin didn’t know what was in the bigger picture yet, but he did know, with the kind of startling certainty that could only come from a premonition, that no one else could be allowed to know about Yoda’s apparent mental instability. If he told the mind healers about what he’d seen, the mind healers would inform the Council, and if the Council knew, they would do something with disastrous consequences. The Force was painfully clear on that point.

So, Anakin was back to square one, much to his growing frustration. What was he going to do? What _could_ he do?

Well, first, he needed to get out of this freezing hanger bay and into some dry clothes. Shaking himself out of his reverie, Anakin all but sprinted the distance to his private quarters. After a hot shower, he pulled on the warmest robes in his possession and collapsed onto his couch. Grabbing his nearby datapad from its station on the end table, he decided it was high time for some research. He couldn’t do any good if he didn’t know what he was dealing with.

Anakin had just pulled up a relevant article and was beginning to read, when his comlink beeped. He answered it immediately.

“Hello? That you Obi-Wan?”

“Yes,” his former Master’s voice came through the speaker. “I was just calling to check up on you. Have you contacted Master Yoda yet?”

“Yeah, I did,” Anakin responded wryly.

“Oh, that’s a pleasant surprise. I thought I would have to nag you for at least another week,” Obi-Wan remarked.

Anakin scowled at the comlink.

“Come on, Master. I’m not that bad,” he protested.

“I’m afraid I must disagree, oh Master of procrastination. Anyway, did you tell Master Yoda about your bad dreams?”

“Ah… not yet,” Anakin admitted. “But he did agree to have a session with me about meditation. I’ll bring it up then.”

“That’s good,” Obi-Wan remarked. “When are you going to meet?”

“We, uh, didn’t get a chance to schedule a time. We’ll definitely meet soon, though,” Anakin replied. As soon as he spoke the words, determination resonated through the Force and through himself, sweeping him up in a wave of powerful resolution.

_"That’s a promise,”_ Anakin Skywalker silently vowed.

Yoda wasn’t going to escape so easily this time.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fanfic that I’ve been sitting on for a long time. I was reluctant to write it because I am very well aware of the fact that not many readers will be interested in reading a fanfic predominately about Yoda, especially when there are so many other amazing characters in the Star Wars universe that can make much more conventionally appealing protagonists. But, when the idea for this story came to me, it just wouldn’t leave, so now I have no choice but to write it.  
> I know that there’s a lot of anti-Yoda sentiments in the Star Wars fandom, and I understand most of it. Many of the arguments people have against him are spot-on, but I just can’t bring myself to hate the character. I guess I’m of the opinion that if Anakin Skywalker is allowed to come back from the Dark Side, an old geezer should be allowed to see the error of his ways and get some happiness in his life. If you think about it, the guy had a really, really sad fate. I can’t be the only one who felt sorry for him.  
> So, that’s a theme you can expect to see a little bit more of as this story continues. Yoda has a lot and issues and a lot of flaws, but those are just keys for character development- and he’s not alone. Basically, everyone in Star Wars has enough baggage to break a mule’s back.  
> Anywho, that’s all for now. Thank you so much for reading.


End file.
